


Trespass

by GoddessofBirth



Category: Firefly
Genre: Age Difference, Denial, F/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-12
Updated: 2012-05-12
Packaged: 2017-11-05 06:10:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/403260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoddessofBirth/pseuds/GoddessofBirth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To touch River, to trespass on her, would be a gross betrayal of the gifts the ship had given him; he knew this without question.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trespass

**Author's Note:**

> A fairly traditional Rayne tale. Some of you may notice that a particular portion of this was influenced by Crowded House's 'Into Temptation.'

Jayne sat on his narrow bed, staring at his hands. Nights like this were the worst. A job gone exceedingly well had prompted Mal to declare a crew celebration planet-side. There was a time when Jayne had loved these occasions, even on dusty backwater moons like this that employed no whores. The lure of smoke, laughter, and drinking to excess, combined with the potential for it all to end in a good brawl, had always had him dressed and waiting impatiently at the airlock for the rest of _Serenity's_ crew.

 

But that had all ended as his senses had been overtaken by the woman-child that was River Tam. It had happened so slowly. First, a glimpse of a bare calf out of the corner of his eye. Then, the scent of something clean and fresh and only _her_ when she would shake her hair out of its braid after a completed job. Next, the sound of a brief and somehow sultry laugh after some local told a joke. That had been followed by the feel of her hand as she slid a reload clip into his. And finally, totally by accident, the lick of her skin across his tongue as she'd offered him an orange slice when his hands were otherwise engaged reassembling Vera.

 

And suddenly she was everywhere, inundating every pore of his skin. He couldn't escape her, couldn't not see her, couldn't look away. It wasn't that he hadn't tried; he'd thrown himself into whoring with a vengeance that had surprised even those who knew his predilection for paid company. First he'd sought out women who looked nothing like her: tall, blond, curvy, full. When that hadn't worked, when he'd started seeing her even when he was buried deep inside them, he'd switched tactics, trying to lose himself in slight, chocolate eyed whores, hoping to remind himself that one woman was the same as any other. Instead of abating, the fever had just grown until he found himself biting his tongue to keep from yelling her name as he came.

 

To touch River, to trespass on her, would be a gross betrayal of the gifts the ship had given him, he knew this without question. He was too old, too hard, too base to go anywhere near her. And so he walked the fine line between longing and obsession. Days were easier, when she dressed for practicality and ease of combat. He could almost, _almost_ pretend his skin didn't burn whenever she walked in the room, could ignore the way his hands shook from the effort it took to keep from reaching out to touch her.

 

Nights were harder, especially now that she had moved to crew quarters, to the bunk adjacent to his. He could hear her through the thin walls, late at night, as he struggled to sleep. Could imagine the slow slide of her clothes as they fell from her body, could envision her brief moment of nakedness before she drew on her nightgown. He still had to bite his tongue to keep from calling her name as he came.

 

But nights like tonight were the hardest, when the smell of her shower dripped from her skin, when her hair would curl into intricate and complicated styles.  She would cast off the clothes meant to intimidate, to warn, and exchange them for dresses that skimmed her body, dresses that even in their innocence were designed to tempt, to intoxicate, to tease. And he would be forced to sit, to watch her as she flowed and writhed across the dance floor, occasionally allowing men to join her but never permitting herself to be claimed.

 

Nights like these he didn't dare touch more than a drink or two, fearful the alcohol would burn away the last bits of restraint he clung to. Instead he sat rigid, mechanically responding to the buzzing of the crew's conversation, counting down the seconds until he could safely escape, no longer even seeing the women displaying themselves to him, arousal dripping off them like summer warmed honey.  _ She _ was the only thing coiling in his gut.

 

He sighed and ran a weary hand over his face. The ship was finally asleep and he could creep out to finish the meal that had earlier fell to ash in his mouth. He had just stepped off the ladder into the hall when he heard a door open and River emerged from her room. She had pulled the pins from her hair and it tumbled, riotous and lush across the milky expanse of skin displayed by the straps of her new blue dress. Her feet were bare. He stumbled backwards toward his bunk, but he wasn't fast enough. She turned at the sound and looked at him and he froze, utterly lost.

 

Her eyes were so full of want, of blatant need, that the last thread of his control snapped and in two steps he was on her, his body trapping her against the wall. One hand tangled in her hair, holding her prisoner, while the other bit into her hip, pulling her sharply against him. And just before his mouth devoured her, he felt her sigh something into his tongue. He thought it might have been ' _ finally _ .'

 

Her taste rolled down his throat, curled through his stomach and pooled between his thighs. Her hands burned a path up his arms and gripped his hair, anchoring him to her. Every thought, every fantasy that had ever tormented him flashed through his mind and River moaned deeply into him. He tore at her mouth, famished, unable to touch her enough. He dropped the hand from her hair to join the one at her hip and together they ruched the fabric of her dress until the skin of her thighs lay bare for his touch. As he splayed his fingers against her naked flesh, her hips rolled instinctively against him and he growled a low, feral snarl, sanity almost complete lost in the feel of her.

 

His hands skimmed to her hips and then around to her backside. He spread his fingers, first cupping and then lifting her as she wrapped her legs tightly around his waist. Her heat soaked through him and he ground hard against the wetness that was apparent even through the double layer of her dress and panties. His mouth left hers to bite a trail down her throat and then close around the thick strap of her dress, dragging it off her shoulder and leaving an open path for his tongue to sweep back across her collarbone.

 

An alarm bell was ringing in the back of his mind. Not telling him to stop; any final reservations had been swept away the instant he had touched her, but warning him that if they didn't move, find a more private spot, they were open to discovery, and he couldn't risk an interruption. To reach either of their rooms would require relinquishing her for the time it took to descend a ladder, and that, too, was unacceptable. Securing her more firmly against him he stalked toward the double bunk Zoe had recently abandoned for a room housing less ghosts. Every step pressed him harder against her so that by the time he kicked the door closed behind them, they were little more than a frenzy of hands and mouths as they tumbled onto the bare mattress.

 

He stripped her dress over her head, hearing a small ripping sound as the fabric tore in his haste. And then she was bare except for a small scrap of cotton, and so, so much better than even his vivid imagination had conjured up. She undulated against the mattress, panting and he slid his hand down her neck, between her breasts and across her stomach before coming to rest over the source of the heat that scalded him, called to him, drew him like a magnet. He traced one finger down the center of the fabric, feeling his finger grow damp and then paused, looking at her.

 

'Yessss!' she hissed before grabbing his hand and pressing it down while simultaneously bucking her hips to meet him. It was the last time he hesitated.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Afterward, he lay, drenched in sweat and guilt, with his face buried in the crook of River's neck. If he had thought having her once would cure the sickness, he was being proven devastatingly wrong. He could feel it, spreading through every part of his body, infection ever stronger, already demanding more. He would never be able to keep from touching her now.

 

She brought their intertwined hands to her lips and gently kissed the back of his hand. She sighed.

 

'I do not understand why you continue to struggle.' He rolled away from her, onto his back, trying desperately to keep his eyes from lingering on her nakedness, on the very obvious signs of what he had taken from her, on his marks across her body.

 

'River, there ain't nothin' right about this and you know it.'

 

She turned on her side to face him and propped her head on her arm. 'I know no such thing.' She reached out and gently turned his face toward her. 'What I do know is how you make me feel here,' she pulled his hand up to touch her temple. 'And here,' she dragged his hand down to stop above her left breast. 'And here,' she brought his hand to rest between her thighs and he felt himself begin to harden again.

 

'And I know that I make you feel similarly, Jayne.'

 

'Don't matter none.' He spoke through clenched teeth, his fingers already betraying him as they began rhythmically stroking.

 

'Yes, it does.' she ended on a breathy sigh, eye lids fluttering shut.

 

He rolled them until she was underneath him. 'This can't happen, River. It has to stop.' Even as he spoke the words, his hands were moving, reacquainting themselves with curves he had just left.

 

She shook her head, tracing a path down his side with her nails, grinning as he hissed. 'It _is_ happening, Jayne. You can't stop it, not anymore.' She gasped as his thumb grazed across her nipple.

 

'I can fight it.' Her leg curled around his hip, bringing them into alignment.

 

'You've fought for months, and where has it gotten you? Continuing to fight will be futile. I am not a – _ah -'_ she sucked in a sharp breath as he entered her. ' - not a child. No one else's opinions matter, just yours and mine.'

 

He brought a hand down to her hip to steady her while leaving the other where it lay by her head, clutching her hand. 'Well, my _opinion_ is that - ' his voice dropped to a husky groan as he rapidly began losing his ability to think. ' - is that you ain't supposed to be here with me.' He couldn't seem to make his body obey his mind anymore, and he flipped them over, reversing their positions. They both gasped as he settled even deeper inside her and his hand reached between them to brush across her. She became liquid around him then, surrounding him, drowning him, drenching every pore.

 

She didn't respond in words for a long while, their debate playing out in groans and clenching muscles and hoarse cries. Then, suddenly, too quickly for his mind to catch up with her actions, she stilled completely, grabbed his hands and trapped them on either side of his head.

 

'Then I am to understand that you would prefer it to be some other man here, inside me, teaching me this?' She clenched her walls around him and before he knew what he was doing he had ripped one of his hands free, grabbed the back of her neck and jerked her down until she was face to face with him, their noses touching.

 

' _Mine,'_ he snarled angrily.

 

Her hair created a curtain around them and she stared at him, unblinking, for a long moment. 'You cannot have it both ways, Jayne Cobb.'

 

And in that second, he lost the war. Because she was right. It didn't matter how wrong he knew it was, how much better he knew she could and should do, the minute he had touched her, had crossed that line he'd kept himself from for so many months, he had claimed her in his bones. He would kill to keep her now.

 

Her lips curved up as she felt him relax against her. 'Now, where were we?'

 

He smirked back at her as he slid his hand from its grip on her neck to softer and more curvaceous areas. 'Oh, I think I remember the place.'

 


End file.
